


Midnight Chorus

by h0ney_has_mang0es



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - College/University, Based On a Troye Sivan Song, Bottom Choi San, M/M, No Dialogue, Non-Explicit Sex, One Shot, Public Sex, Top Jung Wooyoung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0ney_has_mang0es/pseuds/h0ney_has_mang0es
Summary: There's a time and place for everything. But when you are no longer capable of holding back, everything seems to happen on its own. Witness how San and Wooyoung collide, and then fall into one another like the chorus of a slow song.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Kudos: 43





	Midnight Chorus

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy! I wrote this as a practice round for smut, but it ended up not being very smutty. I'll try harder next time!

They clash in the dark hallway of a building neither of them have any business being in. There isn't much there to hold them as their souls collide, only rolls of old carpet on the floors and resistance art lining the tall walls.

Moonlight spills over the skin beneath Wooyoung's lips, painting it with celestial crystals that blink up at him after he bites down and leaves a bruise. San shivers in his hold, a small, surprised moan rolling from his chest. His hips pitch up against Wooyoung's, and the fire that ignites between them burns their nerves raw.

Wooyoung isn't concerned with the large window that serves as San's support, the city lights scattered behind the pink haired boy decorating him as a deity. If anyone is lucky enough to actually spot them in the dark, they'd be too ignorant to understand the depth of what was happening.

The buzzing in San's head hasn't let up since he fell into Wooyoung, and he is too blissed out right now to really care. He hisses as Wooyoung's fingers grip his waist tightly, forcing his bare lower back to press against the cold, innocent glass. He goes unheard.

The choirs' angelic harmonizing echoes down the halls, the polished marble and wise tapestries silently guiding the heavenly sound to cascade over San and Wooyoung as they unfold each other. There is no halfway point for either of them to breathe, their desire too strong to exchange for air.

Wooyoung doesn't consider himself a selfish person, but when it comes to San, this version of San, he's only a mortal with simple needs. As San's lips part beneath his, he can't help but indulge in the sweet taste of his best friend. He has his tongue dipping into the velvety heat, feeling every little tremor that makes itself through the other boy.

San is occupied with Wooyoung's hair, certain that the creators spent millennia searching for the finest silk to weave it with. The strands slip through his fingers like delicate fragments of fate, which are caught by the groan that Wooyoung lets out as he tugs too hard.

The moon and stars shine down on the conservatory with care, fair traces of dust drifting down to cover the boys in their obscenity. There isn't much they can do for them, only hoping that they know what on earth they are doing.

The sound of a new song rises from the hall far away, and San lets out a hiccup as Wooyoung presses his thigh up between his legs. There's no way he would survive the boy before him, Wooyoung proving to be exactly the storm he often claimed he is.

San's body is compliant, the boy moving to his every whim. That's what Wooyoung thinks made them fall so easily. San is eager to please, and Wooyoung is hungry to receive. There has never been anyone who will do the things for him that San does, and San does them all with absolute pleasure. Wooyoung feels like he is the winner of life, because everyone who has ever taken San for granted has lost the only thing that would ever matter.

It's like the choir knows that they're there, because they just keep on singing without any pauses, their unrelenting determination to be perfect benefitting the boys to every extent. Wooyoung gets to see San bite his lower lip, and he can only drag fiery hot fingers down his hard abdomen in admiration.

San likes the attention he gets from Wooyoung, because Wooyoung is a powerful force that doesn't take prisoners. He tumbles into your life and makes you want everything you can't have, and then he leaves you hard and lost and utterly destroyed. But he stayed with San. So being the one who Wooyoung settled on is as unbelievable as it is delicious. San is addicted by now.

It's not long when Wooyoung flips him over, pressing his erect nipples into the clear surface of their university conservatory's one front window. San whines at the sudden contact, but Wooyoung's hot breath on his neck counters the cold. Wooyoung holds him together, tongue eager to caress the soft parts behind his ear.

His lungs fight for air, his breath fogging up the glass beneath his burning face. As Wooyoung's fingers reveal him slowly, peeling layer off after layer, San can only wait for his heart to outrun itself. And when Wooyoung has him bare, he teases with practiced ease at San's rim.

Wooyoung has certainly died and gone to some version of twisted heaven. It couldn't be the one everyone speaks of, because nothing they do beneath the stars could be considered pure. But San is just completely ethereal, and no amount of poems or songs could convince him something better exists anywhere.

San is perfect. San is his end game. There is no after-San.

The walls are curiously looking at the events that transpire, listening with painted ears to the way the voices of trained singers vibrate against wooden pannels and thick university sweaters. But when San lets out the smallest mewl Wooyoung has ever heard, the students are unfortunately oblivious to it all.

San is cute when he's like this, his back muscles flexing as Wooyoung presses in deep. He could only prepare him that much, and he's still too tight for Wooyoung to move properly. He finds his sanity in the small smattering of stars on San's shoulder, the map of moles akin to those on his throat.

Wooyoung coaxes him back, making his ass grind against his strong hips, and San can only try to stand as waves of pleasure spark up his spine. There's no oasis waiting for him after this. He is definitely going under, his hair already wet with the sweat he and Wooyoung worked for together.

A car passes the gardens in front of them, red taillights greeting them as Wooyoung starts moving. As the red fades to pink before being swallowed by navy, San is taken apart against a pane of crystal patterns. He sells his soul to Wooyoung, and Wooyoung devours it easily.

Wooyoung's teeth graze San's shoulder as they move together, his heart doing it's best to climb out of the cage of his ribs and present itself to San. He exchanges the bite for a kiss, and then San's pushing him back with an elbow to his chest.

When he sees the diamonds glimmering on San's lashes, he pulls out, prepared to write a thousand word essay to express how he doesn't mean to hurt him. But San yanks him back by his shoulders, their lips clashing in the middle.

San doesn't feel weak or exposed, because Wooyoung already has his hands on his thighs, hoisting one up to curl around his waist. San's calf presses against the small of his back, and he isn't even surprised that San's flexible like that. He only savors the burn as they sink into each other again, the song rising in pitch as San rakes his nails down his back.

The fire between them sparkles white-hot, and they get desperate as they move in tandem. Wooyoung rocks into San harshly, the slap of skin against skin drenching the carpet beneath their feet. San lets out a high keen, and he unfurls like a flower, snaps like a piano string.

Wooyoung can only drown in the smell of his warmth, feeling San's tears dripping down his chest as he finishes inside him. There's not anything either of them can say, their minds wiped clean as they breathe each other in. San presses pink lips to his throat, hair tickling Wooyoung's cheek.

The choir rumbles apart, the songs unravelled so that the students can finally step down from their podium. It's close, but San and Wooyoung make it into one of the empty rooms just as the large wooden doors slam open.

San expects silent tension, but Wooyoung cups his cheek before he kisses him. Wooyoung catches him as his legs give out beneath him, and he's so safe here that he can't contain a giggle. There's playfulness in Wooyoung's dark eyes as they look at each other, and San needs to nudge their noses together to get rid of his shyness.

Wooyoung leans in again and is met with warm lips against his. San gives as good as he receives, his touches light as he caresses the nape of Wooyoung's neck. He smiles as tears trail down his cheeks, and Wooyoung feels like he should drink them all up until San's in his own body agian.

But he is. And he's kissing Wooyoung like they aren't best friends. He kisses him like he has wanted this for a long time.

Wooyoung can't relate more. It's all he has thought about these past few weeks.

They drown in themselves, waves of warmth washing over them as San confesses between teeth and lips. The choir students filter out of the building they spend most of their time in, ignorant to the clashing of worlds that has just transpired. There's no way they could grasp the depth of it anyway.

Wooyoung has San against him as they drink up the dark, their voices too soft for the portraits to hear. He murmurs his thoughts into San's skin, and they stay there like tattoos that San promises to keep to himself. And as the bells of the tower nearby announce the arrival of midnight, they teach each other what love means.


End file.
